


Savory and Filling

by TriplePirouette



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A domestic moment in the Gold household at Christmastime. Written for Tumblr's Rumbelle Secret Santa for Bottledspirits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savory and Filling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bottledspirits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledspirits/gifts).



> Written for the 2014 Rumbelle Secret Santa as a substitute author for bottledspirits from the prompt “Christmas and meat pies.” Bottled also requested Rum in his socks, Belle in the worst Christmas sweater ever, and kittens. I hope you enjoy this domestic fluff.

Once Upon a Time, Rumplestiltskin had made a deal for a maid. Normally, Rumplestiltskin was a very wise and cunning man- he was always three steps ahead of those desperate enough to deal with him, knowing they made bargains for prices they didn’t understand.

 

One time, however, he was on the wrong end of the bargain. Her cheery smile and rambling words and kind manner (once she got over her fear of him) had been something he’d been wholly unprepared for at the time. He’d had to teach her how to do the things he wanted done: serve tea, clean the castle, trim the hedges, tend the larder… She was a headache wrapped around an annoyance wrapped up in a beautifully endearing package.

 

He should have taken her prisoner. Banished her to another time. Turned her into a cat to sit at the king’s feet.

 

At the very least he should have asked for a resume.

 

It had all worked out for the best though, as now he was quite fond of her.

 

Now, so many years and worlds later, as he padded from office to kitchen in the home that they shared, all the hours teaching her how to cook and clean had been worth it. Not for the outcome- oh, she was proficient in cleaning and minding and categorizing, but quite helpless in the kitchen with anything but a pot of tea- but for the time it held them together, the time it allowed them to fall in love.

 

His stocking feet moved over the hardwood noiselessly, allowing him to sneak into the doorway of the kitchen unnoticed. Belle had her back to him, working her hands in what looked to be dough. The air smelled of meat and savory cooked vegetables, it was a smell he’s always sought out in the dark castle, a smell he’d remembered from his childhood.

 

_His father slapping the little meat they could afford in a large circle of dough, pinching it together and cooking it in the fire, breaking it in half to share with him…_

_The sisters, carefully filling three pockets of sweet dough with a stew of lamb and whatever had been ripe in the garden to cook in the hearth…_

_His own hands carefully preparing two equal sized pockets, but taking the smallest amount of meat for himself while he stuffed the other one as tight as he could for his pregnant wife…_

_Baelfire taking a bite from one corner at 5, squeezing so hard with his hands that the filing poured into his lap from the other end…_

_Belle bringing him a small, perfectly formed pie on her third night in the castle, stuttering carefully out that it was the only thing she knew how to cook…_

They were happy memories, even if most of them centered around hardship. His childhood memories of being warm and filled on the simple dough and meat had sustained him through his life, small pockets of contentment in a sea of poverty and loss. Even with his magic, he’d found solace in the simple meal. She hadn’t made them since she woke up in this world, and he hadn’t wanted to push despite the odd craving for the taste now and then. Granny’s Chicken Pot Pies were not quite a good substitute, but sufficed most of the time.

 

Belle was grumbling at the table, her hands pressing harder and harder into whatever she was working. Belle had never truly become proficient in the kitchen, though she was slowly getting better with the technology of this world. The steady temperatures of the oven and cook top were far more manageable for her than a temperamental open fire or wood burning stove. She hadn’t felt his presence yet and continued to work her hands through what appeared to be a tough dough, flour up to her elbows and covering the ends of the scrunched up sweater there. Her hair was up, bearing the delicate curve of her neck and she kept her focus on the task before her. Her bare legs were visible beneath the hem of the cotton skirt that swung around her thighs every time she rose on tip toe to get more leverage to press into the table.

 

He pulled his waistcoat down straight and stepped into the kitchen, a smile sitting slyly on his face. “Off on another culinary adventure?”

 

He saw her shoulders shake with a silent laugh before she turned around. “Not quite.”

 

Rum recoiled, taking in the sweater that from the back looked plain and charming. “What is that?” He pointed at the monstrosity that she wore. It was a vibrant red, merry and bright for the season, but that’s where the merriness stopped. Silver and gold threads were woven into the fabric to crate what he supposed were meant to be two reindeer on one side. On the other three circles (a snowman, perhaps) had been badly formed in white embroidery thread. Blue, white, and silver x’s crisscrossed the entire front of the sweater, and a green border of thick, cockeyed holly leaves had been stitched around the throat.

 

Rumplestiltskin had always prided himself on having good quality clothes, just as much an armor and mask here as his old dragon skin coat had been in the Enchanted Forrest. As such, he’d made sure Belle had whatever she wanted in that department, as well. Whatever attire she wanted, whatever shoes, whatever face she wanted to show the world, he made sure she had it.

 

His fingers itched to tear it off her, and not to fulfill any carnal desire, though that would surely be a fun and desirable side effect of removing that eyesore from her body. He wasn’t sure where this monstrosity had come from, but he was fairly certain he was going to burn it the second she took it from her body.

 

Belle laughed, smiling and pinching his cheeks with her flour covered hands. “Does it hurt your eyes that much? I wish you could see your face!” She grabbed a tea towel off the table, wiping her hands clean then dusted the flour away from his cheeks. She smiled and spun, grabbing the edge of the hem as she modeled it for him. “You don’t like it?”

 

Rum opened and closed his mouth for a moment, searching for the words that would not hurt her feelings. She’d been insistent that they celebrate the holidays of this new land despite their lack of religious association with them, and had endeavored to celebrate what she called ‘the spirit of Christmas’ with as much fervor as he’d ever seen. If she was wearing this of her own free will, well, he wanted to tread carefully. “It’s… interesting.”

 

Belle laughed again loudly, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She stepped closer to him and let her hands skim over his tie and waistcoat, catching the edges of his rolled up sleeves as she ran her fingers down his arms to hold his hands. “It was a gift.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “From Regina, no doubt. Who else could be that evil?”

 

Belle shook her head, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and disapproval. “From Ashley and the kids in her crafts class.” She dropped one hand and picked at the threads on her sweater. “They made it for me to thank me for allowing them to use the library for their class.”

 

He leaned forward, some mirth creeping back into his voice. “Are you sure it’s not a punishment?”

 

Belle stepped back and swatted him gently on the shoulder. “I’m sure!” She reached for a pot holder and slid her hand delicately in. “They made me promise I would wear it for story time this morning. They were really proud of their work!”

 

“You wore that outside?” He asked, flabbergasted once again.

 

Belle gently tapped his nose with the forefinger of her uncovered hand. “They’re seven years old. It’ll be a while before they’re sewing couture.” She shrugged and looked down at herself. “They put enough thought in to make it, the least I could do was wear it.” Belle leaned down, pulling a tray out of the oven behind her.

 

He laughed, stepping to the other side of the table. “The least you could have done was burn it.”

 

Belle shot him a disapproving look before sadly looking at the contents of her cookie sheet. “Well, I burned something.” She put it down on the stove, leaning on the edge of the counter. “I don’t get it,” she murmured to herself.

 

Rum slipped over, his feet sliding gently across the floor. “Oh my.” The smell of the meat pies, the beef and carrots and onions that had drawn him to the kitchen, had been deceptive. The two small pockets on the tray were decimated. The circled edges were browned almost black, but the center dough had disintegrated, leaving a congealed piled of gummy looking stew bubbling away at the center.

 

“That’s the third time now. I have no idea what I’m doing wrong.” Belle shook her head and then stared at the table. “It’s the flour. I know it’s the flour…”

 

Rum nodded, looking at the way Belle chewed on her lower lip as she thought through her recipe. “It is far more processed here than you’re used to.” He grabbed her hand, holding it gently. “Same result every time?”

 

She shook her head and pointed to the sliding glass door to the back yard. “First one came out burnt, completely and utterly. Second one was so soggy I couldn’t even get it to cook.” On the brick patio there was a small grey striped stray kitten, nibbling at a mound of the two previous attempts on a plate.

 

Rum hung his head, knowing what was coming. He shook it gently and simply asked, “What have you named him?”

 

Belle smiled and leaned into Rum’s side. “Frost, for the cold and for the poet. I’ve been looking for his mother but she’s nowhere to be found.” She pressed her head into his shoulder, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. The look would have been sultry except for the god-awful sweater that was still invading his vision. “We can keep him?”

 

Rum shook his head. “He stays outside until we can get him to the vet and get all his shots taken care of…” He looked out the door, the inquisitive kitten sitting at it, staring at him. Somehow, he’d been ganged up on… “And consider it a Christmas gift.”

 

Belle hugged him tight. “Thank you.” She huddled into his side and styed there for a quiet moment, the warmth from the stove seeping into them, the smell of the savory meat filling making her stomach gargle. “I have one more shot, then I’m out of ideas…” She stood and shrugged her shoulders, “ and filling.” Belle gestured at her flour-covered table. “Care to join me?”

 

Rum smiled. She was small and white with four and smiling, despite the culinary disasters around her. He wiggled his fingers at her, a smirk quirking up the side of his mouth. “I think these fingers might be able to whip up some magic in the kitchen.”

 

She looked at him with a mock-stern stare, the glint in her eyes and the ridiculous sweater she was wearing making it impossible to take her seriously. “No magic.”

 

He twirled his fingers out to the side, reminiscent of a different time, a different skin color. “Only culinary magic, my dear.” There was a muted meow, and the sound of a soft bump on the glass. He shook his head and smiled as he grabbed a lump of over kneaded dough and subtly reformed the molecules with a silent spell.

 

Once Upon a Time, Rumplestiltskin had made a deal for a maid. Normally, Rumplestiltskin was a very wise and cunning man- he was always three steps ahead of those desperate enough to deal with him, knowing they made bargains for prices they didn’t understand. He hadn’t understood back then when he’d spent days teaching her how to do his laundry properly, thought her one of the most foolish bargains he’d ever made.

 

Now, standing across from her, he knew that for once he’d made the perfect deal. He saved the kingdom and found someone who loved him. He’d made many mistakes, would make many more, and it wouldn’t always be as simple as meat pies at Christmas time with their new cat crying to be let in.

 

But he had this moment to add to his memories, and for now that was enough.

 

_Baking meat pies with Belle at Christmas; he in his stocking feet, her in the ugliest sweater he had ever seen and flour on the tip of her nose as she smiled across the table at him._

 

 

 


End file.
